


Watch Me While I Ruin Everything

by neapeaikea



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Feelings, Life in the bunker, M/M, Post-Season/Series 04, Pre-Season/Series 05
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-05
Updated: 2018-05-05
Packaged: 2019-05-02 06:37:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14538825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neapeaikea/pseuds/neapeaikea
Summary: Being stuck in the bunker means every day is as dreadful as the last, but Miller finds his escape in Jackson.





	Watch Me While I Ruin Everything

**Author's Note:**

> Yay, finally another Mackson fic! Fell in love with them all over again while writing this, so hopefully more will come, we'll see how season 5 pans out. Unfortunately I didn't have this done before s5 started airing and feel stupid posting theoretical canon future fic too late, but seeing as I've yet to see a single episode of s5, I figured what the heck, just post it. Hopefully some of you will enjoy it! Set six months after they enter the bunker, and it's all speculation on my part, except for their love ;) 
> 
> Feedback is lovingly drooled on, **but no s5 spoilers please!**

Miller doesn’t know how to approach it. How do you tell someone you want more than quick handjobs and casual fooling around, when you’re stuck in a hole in the ground for five years? They’re never gonna have time, nor privacy for more than a few fevered touches and making out. Why ruin it by bringing feelings into it? He and Jackson work well as they do now. They’re both constantly busy, Miller as head of Skaikru security, and by default the whole bunker, and Jackson one of the only two trained doctors they have. A deeper relationship between the two of them will undoubtedly be messy, hard and probably burn up within a year. Miller shouldn’t want to risk their friendship for that. 

But he wants Jackson, wants all of him. Wants his stupid handshake, his soft smile, his anxiety, his hopes. He wants to sleep next to him, eat with him, talk to him, kiss him. He wants everything, and he wants to tell Jackson. 

He knows he should wait, at least until things are more settled, until he doesn’t have to break up fights in the mess hall every other night, and Jackson doesn’t have to explain to everyone that they don’t have certain medications anymore. 

But sometimes Jackson looks so tired, so exhausted, and all Miller can think is to tell him he loves him, that he is loved, is appreciated and admired. He thinks it’ll bring Jackson happiness, maybe even some pride, knowing that someone cares for him so deeply that they’re willing to ruin the only bright spot in their lives.

They’ve been down here for six months now, and they’ve already lost three people. One from the Trikru, two from the Azgeda. One was of natural causes, the other two deaths were “accidents” in scuffles that turned violent. Everything in the bunker turns violent. The days all blend into one another, with no daylight and no change in season. There’s a fight every day, the same people arguing over the same things. 

Miller’s not surprised, nor unsympathetic to those that go mad down here. He’s pretty sure this place’ll drive him mad too. At least he has Jackson, someone to let off steam with, someone who actually paid attention in school and tells Miller about everything from the periodic table to Roman myths. Jackson’s sense of humor is dry and his hands are rough on Miller’s body. Not everyone down here is lucky to have someone like that. 

**

“Hey. You off?” Miller asks, a steadying hand on Jackson’s shoulder. 

“Yeah.” Jackson looks up from his papers, “Just finishing off some notes.”

Miller nods imperceptibly, wandering off to the side to glance at the containers on the shelves in the room that’s become known as ‘medical’. It’s where Abby and Jackson work, though Abby’s just as often in ‘the office’, the room that Octavia uses to rule the place. Medical is one of the few places where you can get a moment alone. Jackson and Abby offer it sometimes to those that are too close to a breakdown. Everywhere you go in the bunker, five other people are there with you but in medical there’s a chance that no one will bother you for a whole hour. 

Miller’s spent enough time in medical waiting for Jackson, or fooling around with him, that he notices that the pile of bandages is getting steadily smaller. 

“Do people come here for anything other than being beaten up?”

Jackson looks up at the question, “Sure. There’s the claustrophobic panic ones. The ones that seem to be allergic to the food. The fatigued. We’re starting to see the consequences of lack of sun exposure, the air in here… We’ll all suffer in ways eventually.”

“Gee, you’re a ray of sunshine today.”

Jackson lifts his eyebrow imperceptibly, and Miller raises his own in acknowledgement of the unintended pun. They go back to their silence, Jackson scribbling away. 

After a few minutes, Miller hears the chair scraping against the floor, can sense Jackson getting closer. Despite everything, he feels his nerves kicking in. He still gets nervous and stupid around Jackson. He covers it by resting against Jackson’s chest when the other man circles his arms around him from behind.

“Hi.” Jackson says gently into Miller’s short hair, “Is it getting to you today?”

They all have this conversation, on a near-daily basis. How things are down here, and how terrible they all feel about it. It’s one of the conversations that’ll probably propel Miller into insanity before the hatch opens. 

Instead of answering, Miller takes Jackson’s hand, guides it down the front of his uniform. They don’t speak as Miller shows him what he wants by pressing Jackson’s hand to his dick. He can hear Jackson lick his lips, feels his tongue swipe quickly at his neck. Jackson gets a firm grip on Miller’s dick, tugging a few times before Miller hisses from the lack of lube.

“You’re always too hot for it.” Jackson says into Miller’s skin, taking his hand back to spit in it, using his tongue to get it wet enough for a comfortable slide. Miller uses the interlude to get his pants and underwear down his thighs. It’s not always that they make it that far, and Jackson’s right that it’s Miller’s fault. For all the thinking he’s done lately about wanting more with Jackson, it’s always Miller who can’t wait for them to get fully naked, or prepare himself properly when they’re fucking. He’s not sure why, he wasn’t like this before. Maybe it’s having lived for months thinking the world was going to end that makes him not want to waste any time, not even a minute. 

Miller stays pressed against Jackson’s chest, but he turns his head a little, Jackson kissing the corner of his mouth. It’s quick and dirty, like always. It’s been weeks since anyone’s dick was near anyone’s ass, mostly because they don’t have good lube options. Jackson keeps kissing his neck and cheek as he jerks him off, muttering sweet nothings into his skin. Miller closes his eyes, listens to Jackson’s quiet voice and succumbs to the feeling of a skilled hand on his dick. 

Jackson tucks him back in afterwards, turning Miller around for a smile and a kiss. 

“Thanks, man.” Miller says. 

“Looked like you needed it.” Jackson shrugs.

“And you?” There’s a bulge in Jackson’s pants, but it’s not a full erection, Miller knows how much bigger that bulge would be.

“Later.” 

“Are we sleeping in here tonight?” Miller asks. 

Jackson sort of frowns, reaching for a towel to wipe his hand off on. “Uhm, sure.”

Miller hesitates. “Is that… okay?” 

“Yeah, yeah it’s fine.” Jackson says, dumping the towel in the laundry bin and then proceeding to walk around the room, checking that everything is in its right place. 

“But?” Truth be told, Miller is a man of few words, as is Jackson, but down here they can’t afford to misunderstand each other, or to walk around grumpy and take it out on others. He knows from experience that relationships need honesty to survive and there’s no such thing as the ‘right moment’ to bring something up. 

“You don’t have to stay here just because I do.” Jackson says, his back to Miller. 

“You don’t want me to?” Miller asks, surprised by how hurt he feels by that one sentence.

“No, I do,” Jackson turns around but he doesn’t quite meet Miller’s eyes. “But there’s no mattress here, and sleeping on blankets on the floor isn’t good for you.”

“It isn’t good for you either.” Miller counters.

Jackson’s been sleeping in medical off and on for a while now. It’s not because they have patients in the middle of night, but because there were break-ins and medicine was stolen. Miller blames himself as head guard for not realizing that there were items worth stealing in medical, and overnight security has been tightened in all prioritized areas. But they don’t have that many guards, and Jackson quickly started sleeping on the cot they use to treat patients to deter would-be thieves. It’s worked so far. 

Miller’s joined Jackson a few times, not only because there’s usually no overnight patients which means they can have fun alone, but because it’s one of the few times he can get something resembling solitude. They’ve even spent a few nights not talking to each other, just basking in the silence. Unfortunately, they’ve found out that the cot does not house two grown men, and they’ve resorted to sleeping on top of blankets on the floor. 

With a few short steps, Jackson’s back in front Miller. He’s a little taller, so when he puts his arms on Miller’s shoulders and rests most of his weight there, it makes him lean down. “I don’t want you to miss out on sorely needed sleep because you think I need you here.”

Miller can feel himself frown as he tries to follow Jackson’s logic and find the holes in it. “I don’t think you need me here. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to be here.” He tilts his head slightly, his bearded cheek resting on Jackson’s lower arm, “With you.”

Jackson’s eyes flit around Miller’s face as if he’s searching for something, his eyes sharp and inquisitive. Miller tries not to fidget. But he must do something because Jackson smirks. “That’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“Fuck off.” Miller mutters, rolling his eyes when Jackson moves in to plant an exaggerated smooch to his cheek.

“You should shower though.” Jackson says through laughter.

Miller doesn’t take offence, they all need showers, “Yeah, I know. You’ll go pick up our rations in the meantime, or do you wanna eat in the mess hall?”

“Not if I can avoid it.”

Food has been rationed since the very first day and ‘superfluous water usage’ has been regulated since week two. Showers are allowed once a week, but some go longer than that between washes. Many of the grounders never had a hygiene routine to begin with so it’s not new to them. It’s one of the reasons there’s quite a smell in the bunker. 

Jackson’s probably as aware as Miller is that they should make an attempt to be out around people sometimes, to not be mistaken as dismissive or loners when they are committed to the Wonkru that Octavia is struggling to build. But they both have a need for space and silence that sometimes must win out or their inevitable insanity will take hold sooner rather than later.

Miller goes by the Skaikru dormitory, picks up a change of clothes for him and Jackson before heading to the showers. Their bunks are two rows from each other, with a bag underneath them containing what few precious personal items they have. After six months the beds have become people’s most important place, many decorating them with fabrics or things that remind them of the outside world. When something goes missing, all hell breaks loose, and Miller and the other guards get called to break up fights, or search for missing rings and necklaces.

There’s never enough water, nor enough time allowed, to wash properly so Miller concentrates on his dick and ass, his stomach and armpits, the places he thinks he smells and sweats the most. He puts on fresh underwear and his off-duty clothes, consisting of black sweats and a hooded shirt. 

Jackson has their soup waiting for Miller on the desk he and Abby use for paperwork when Miller gets back. His stomach rumbles at the sight of food and Jackson hands him a spoon without comment. There are four chairs in the room but only one cot. Miller thinks they’re damn lucky they haven’t had two severely injured patients at the same time yet. 

“Abby reckons Niylah’s ready to take her own shifts. Means her and I won’t need to be on standby all the time.” Jackson says.

Between spoonfuls, Miller says, “That’s great. You gonna take on another apprentice?”

“Probably, yeah. The Lake People have a woman that knows her way around herbs and remedies. Could be useful for us too.”

“And Abby?”

Jackson shrugs, “Has assignments from Jaha and Kane, and Octavia. She doesn’t have time for an apprentice. She’ll oversee Niylah for the time being, and I’ll take on the apprentice.”

Miller nods.

“We’ll see if and when we need more people. It’s the same for you, right? Recruiting guards.”

At that, Miller sighs, pausing his dinner. “We need them yesterday. The grounders are too distrustful of us to want to join. Not that they trust each other.”

“But they all have some sort of security of their own, right?” At Miller’s nod, Jackson goes on, “Well, get the head guards in a room and come up with a security routine that actually works, rules that they’ll actually enforce and their people follow.”

“We need a school, that’s what we need. Except they’re all too old to be told what to do.” Miller scratches his beard, “We need to figure out a better way to activate people, keep them busy. Like, a sports tournament or something, a fucking play, I don’t know.”

“Hmm.” Jackson taps his cheek, looking thoughtful. “That’s actually not a bad idea. Get people interested, committed to something. I’ll bring it up with Abby.”

Miller gets back to his dinner, mournful he only has two spoonfuls left before it’s all gone. They’ll all get too little sustenance down here, pale and skinny will be the default for them all within a year. “We need to find people a way to let off steam. You and I have each other, but…” Miller shrugs. 

Jackson laughs, “You mean sex? People started having sex immediately. We already have two pregnancies, we’re just laying low ‘til we figure out how to deal with it.”

Miller is surprised by the news. He hasn’t heard or seen any sordid behavior, he figured they were months away from people turning to sex to cure the boredom. “How to deal with it?”

“More mouths to feed, right? People might not like that. Might say the distribution of resources should reflect how many entered the bunker, not how many are in it now. On the other hand, we had those three deaths. I think more people will get killed, or even do the job themselves, but Abby insisted we make the assumption no one else dies before the hatch is opened. She’s talked to Octavia and the council about birth control. But nothing’s been decided.”

“We’re gonna start telling people who can and can’t have kids now?” Miller asks. Sometimes he hates being part of the system, all those feelings from his early teens that made him want to rebel against the authorities coming back up to the surface.

“If not, we’re gonna have to tell them who can and can’t eat.” Jackson pushes his own bowl away, equally as empty as Miller’s. 

Never one to waste a moment, Miller gets up and pushes Jackson’s chair out, the other man helping him. He sinks to his knees and unbuckles Jackson’s belt. Jackson’s hands are firm on his head as he sucks him off, head bobbing up and down in a steady rhythm. Miller’s preferred technique is to be fast and relentless, concentrating on the head of Jackson’s cock, using his tongue to keep it wet and straining for more. They’ve both figured out that Miller likes it when Jackson guides him up and down with just a little too much pressure, and sometimes Jackson pushes Miller further down until it feels like he’s choking. Jackson lets him up then, giving Miller a chance to breathe and to kiss and lap at Jackson’s dick. It works for them, it’s not elegant or skillful but it makes them hard and gets them off. 

When Jackson’s come down Miller’s throat, Miller awkwardly scrambles into Jackson’s lap. They make out tiredly, Jackson’s hand stroking at Miller’s thigh almost like an afterthought. 

“I was hoping we could steal the mattresses from our bunks and put them in here instead.” Miller yawns. 

“Maybe.” Jackson offers. “If the beds aren’t needed for something else. Should probably use them for patients.”

Miller sighs, it’s all utilitarian to a fault down here. No space for personal needs, which is why the nights in medical are a blessing. 

“Means we’d tell the others we’re moving in here.” Jackson continues. “I don’t know how that’d go over.”

“You’ve been sleeping here for weeks.” Miller says.

“Not permanently. And you were never part of the plan.”

Miller blinks at that, gets off Jackson’s lap and sits on the desk instead. He raises an eyebrow in a ‘go on’ manner.

“I mean,” Jackson says, putting his hands on Miller’s knees, “I started sleeping here because of the thefts. A while there it felt like things were gonna kick off. Sure, things settled, but sleeping here…”

“Gives you space. I figured that out, genius.”

“Gives us somewhere to fuck.” Jackson adds.

They read in silence for an hour or two, before Jackson is pulled away by a young girl who gets dizzy spells. Miller tries not to listen in, standing outside of medical for the half an hour she’s in there. When she leaves, Jackson has a pinched look on his face.

They pull out the blankets and settle down on them before the recently introduced evening bell rings through the bunker. It’s not really comfortable unless they’re on their backs, but Miller props himself up on his side, looks down at Jackson. The other man meets his gaze, offers a tired smile. 

“I’m not here because I want somewhere to fuck, or someone to fuck. Just so we’re clear on that.” It’s been niggling at his mind all evening, Jackson’s joking comment from earlier. 

“I know that.” Jackson says, seriously enough that Miller believes Jackson really does know that. 

Miller settles in closer, pretty much lying on top of Jackson but still keeping his head up so he can look Jackson in the eyes, “You know, the world was ending, and we were both pretty stressed out when we got together. But I don’t regret any of it.”

Jackson just smiles, a hand coming up to rest comfortably at Miller’s side.

Miller’s not stupid enough to not realize that his love for Jackson might very well be conditioned by the extreme circumstances they find themselves in, that maybe he wouldn’t feel so strongly for him if they were above ground, and their lives weren’t constantly in danger. He spends most of his days on edge, ready for an attack or at least a punch, it stands to reason that his feelings of affection are a bit extreme too. 

“And?” Jackson prompts when Miller’s spaced out for long enough.

Miller smiles. He’s been afraid he’ll ruin things between them if he speaks up, but maybe he’ll do the opposite. They’ve never really defined their relationship. They’re together and that’s good enough. Everyone else refers to them as boyfriends, and it’s the truth even if they themselves don’t use that label. If they’re okay’d to actually move in to medical, they might become more than just boyfriends. “I love you. Just so you know.”

Jackson looks back at him, first quite blankly, and then wonder starts to creep in. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Miller shrugs helplessly.

“I love you too.” Jackson moves his hand from Miller’s side to his cheek, thumb stroking slowly.

“I didn’t say it for you to say it back.” That was never Miller’s intent. He just didn’t want to keep his feelings secret, miss his chance at saying it. There’s a thousand ways they could die before the air above ground is radiation free. He doesn’t want to die without letting Jackson know that he loved him. 

“I’ve been in love with you since I got shot by that drone.” Jackson says softly, “Sure, some of it is probably hero worship, or some sort of servitude for saving my life.”

Miller laughs, “So that’s why you offered to come back with me to get Murphy and the others.”

“I’d say my seduction plan worked pretty well.” Jackson winks. 

With another laugh, Miller leans in for an uncoordinated kiss, the angle and their smiles making it difficult to make it a real kiss. “Yeah, it worked pretty damn okay.”

 


End file.
